One Week
by lilykane
Summary: In one week would be the start of three very long years.


**One Week**

_Disclaimer: Xenosaga is owned by Bandai-Namco. I'm right-handed. Ain't that cool?_

"Always the fucking brown-noser, Ridgely," Kevin Winnicot managed to sneer, his head down. He was leaning against Allen Ridgely, who was quite a bit more sober than his boss; they were in elevator of the high-rise building were Kevin's apartment was located. There were few things that caused Kevin to lose his composure. At work, he was the epitome of calm, joking in even what seemed like the most dismal of situations. Usually, this carried into the few times Kevin went out to the bars with his subordinates. Tonight, however, was an exception.

One week left, and that was it. Vector's First Division was officially going to hand over their largest contracted project, the Kosmos Obey Strategical Multiple Operation Systems prototype, to the Federation military for mass production. Nerves had been high at work for everyone, especially Kevin. KOS-MOS, as they all fondly called "her", had never had any true field tests, aside from virtual runs. And even in those perfect conditions, the algorithms often were off, resulting in less-than-desirable results. In the past months, that had meant a lot more drinking after work for just about everyone working on the project.

Allen's response to Kevin's snide remark was, "If helping you out makes me a brown-noser, I guess I am."

They were in love with the same woman. That was no secret to either man, though Allen had pretty much given up at this point. He knew he wasn't considered as nearly as good-looking as Kevin, who was the preverbal "tall, dark, and handsome". Allen, however, was the complete opposite of that: shorter, fair-haired, and plain. Plus, his social skills left much to be desired, considering that the only time Allen was able to speak to _her _without stuttering was when he was drunk. He figured by now, short of Kevin suddenly dying of congestive heart failure, he didn't have a prayer.

But that didn't stop him from hating Winnicot.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the elevator finally made it up to Kevin's place. Like most of the more expensive apartments and hotel rooms those days, the elevator just opened up directly the apartment instead of an inconvenient hallway that branched out into several rooms. The apartment itself was pretty much what Allen imagined; classy and spacious, plenty of modern art and furniture. Though, one thing did stand out to the younger man: on the ledge of one of the windows, there was a small glass jar with a few yellow and pink tulips that had taken root in the water. The jar itself was rather old and dirty, and Allen figured that the flowers probably were on their fifth or fourth season of bloom at the very least. He almost asked about them as he carefully led Kevin over to the couch in the living room, but he stopped himself. It wasn't any of his business.

Kevin broke away and plopped down on the couch, "I guess I owe you one, huh?"

"Not really. It was the civil thing to do."

"I've could've made it home on my own, you know."

"...As fucked up as you are?"

Kevin smiled to himself as he stretched out on his couch, "I may be too drunk to drive, but I'm sober enough to call a cab."

"Fair enough," Allen shrugged as he walked over to the kitchen counter. He then held up Kevin's car keys and jingled them to get the older man's attention and placed them on the counter. "Just remember where I put these."

"Thanks, Mom."

With a heavy sigh, Allen shook his head. Granted, he had offered to take Winnicot home; part of it was simply was because it was the right thing to do. Yet part of it was because he smugly wanted to be the better man for once. A little something he could hold over Kevin's head, if even for a tiny bit. Sure, she hadn't been there to watch the man she had chosen down enough whiskey to choke a horse within a few short hours. Allen just observed the entire time, pacing himself as he drank his own liquor, anticipating having to be the designated driver yet again. Good Samaritan or complete asshole. Either way, it meant driving Winnicot's ass home.

"...I hate the city," Kevin murmured, his words slurring.

"I'm sorry?"

He repeated himself louder, "I hate it." He straightened up to try to eye Ridgely, "Too much artificial light. Especially at night. It's hard to sleep."

Allen glanced over at the windows; there were some truth to Kevin's words. He lived right in the downtown area of the capitol of Second Militia. It was an urban metropolis, constantly sprawling with traffic and hologram advertisements that lit up the night streets with an eerie green and violet glow as they danced from block to block like ghosts and 24-hour news casts that rambled on from the huge billboard tele-displays across the city. The Realian call girls that disguised themselves as hostesses grinning and beckoning at the entrances of every hotel and apartment building. The occasional Ormus fanatic waving his homemade optic signs while screaming about the end being near on a street corner. Vector and Hyams logos laser-branded onto just about everything. Aside from the potted trees and flowers set out for landscaping, there was hardly a natural thing around. Even the people seemed artificial.

"I guess I'm just used to it. Never noticed." Allen looked back at Kevin, "Anyway, I should get going. I'll see you Monday, Chief."

"I hate when you call me that."

Allen ignored Kevin's remark and started to make his way to the elevator door.

"Hey, Ridgely," Kevin called after him, again struggling to sit up straight. Allen paused, keeping his back to his superior; he was annoyed, starting to feel tired himself. And he knew he hadn't drank enough to not have a hangover in the morning and was already making plans on finishing up the bottle of vodka he had sitting on his desk at home.

Kevin continued, "There's actually something I've been meaning to talk to you about, if you don't mind staying awhile longer."

Allen forced a smile and turned back around, "Great, love to."

"You're full of shit," the older man chuckled, slumping back down in his seat. Kevin then shifted to the side, making room for the younger man to sit next to him, and he gestured for Allen to join him on the couch. The older man's eyes followed Ridgely as he walked back into the room and sat down.

Kevin leaned back further, resting his hand on his cheek, "So, what's your deal?"

"I'm sorry?" Allen retorted, truly confused.

"You know what I'm talking about. Mr. Holier-than-thou-stick-up-my-ass. It's more than Shion, isn't it?"

"What does Shion have to do with what you're talking about?"

Kevin smirked, "Exactly. Is it..." His voice trailed as he went into thought, seemingly trying to concentrate on what he was exactly going to say but at the same time distracted.

Winnicot finally continued, "I look at you, Ridgely, and I see this look on your face. This whole, 'I'm better than this piece of shit' look. And you know what? You're probably right." He finally pulled back entirely, clumsily starting to unbutton his shirt. "Heh, too much to drink..."

Allen didn't respond and looked down at his shoes.

"Hey, you see those flowers over there?" Kevin pointed to the jar of flowers.

"Yeah, what about them?" the younger man responded glancing over at the jar then fixating his attention the best he could at the other man still fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"They're a special hybrid, they don't grow anywhere anymore. You used to be only able to find them on Militia.. I...well, I was there during the Conflict. I saved a few. For a friend." There was a hint of proudness in Kevin's voice, mixed with regret and something else that Allen couldn't quite place a finger on. "I want you to do a favor for me."

"And that would be...?"

"Something happens to me, I want you to take good care of these for me. I...wouldn't forgive myself if those flowers died before I got to give them to her."

Allen blinked, "That's it?"

"That's the first thing," the older man shrugged, finally managing to get out of his shirt. "Second, I wanted to let you know--Fuck, I must be drunker than I thought..." He flung his shirt, and it hit the wall next to where the kitchen counter started then slid down to the floor. Kevin laid himself back and was silent for a moment, his eyes closed. The younger man sitting next to him watched pensively, waiting for his superior to continue. Outside, the sounds of late night traffic murmured softly; upstairs, a faucet fizzed weakly then switched off. Allen skewed his mouth to the side; the place was nice enough where it had actual water, as opposed to cheap sonic fixtures or heat sanitizers. One more reason not to like his boss.

Kevin finally reopened his eyes, "You know, you're the only person in the world I've ever felt threatened by."

Allen frowned, "_Threatened?_"

"Yeah," the older man sighed heavily closing his eyes again, his breathing was starting to slow some, indicating he was about to nod off. "I've never, ever met anyone else that had the same kind of credentials as me--until you came along. And you're so goddamned _patient, _it's sickening. Seriously, why the hell are you still sitting here? I would've left ten minutes ago..." Kevin again smirked to himself, fully expecting Allen to finally get up and leave.

But he didn't. The younger man sat looking over at the jar of flowers, utterly confused. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be insulted or flattered.

"Hey, Ridgely," Winnicot murmured one more time, eyes still closed.

"Yes?"

"It's late. There's a guestroom in the back, has a shower and all. You can crash here..." He finally drifted off to sleep.

Much to his own surprise, Allen took up Kevin's offer. He convinced himself it was because he was too tired to drive, though in the back of his head, he was moved by the drunken vulnerability that Winnicot had shown him. Yet there he was standing in the bathroom of the huge guestroom in the back of the apartment, slowly shedding his clothes and carefully folding them into a neat pile on the bathroom counter. Allen figured he should at least get a real shower out of all this. Then afterwards, both he and Kevin would never talk about this night again, he was certain.

And that was perfectly fine with Allen.

He hadn't had a shower with water since before he left home for college. That was one of the few luxuries that he missed from his childhood. In all actuality, he could go home anytime he wanted; his father still had a place waiting for him at the family business, a desk right next to his brothers. Lawyers, the whole lot of them. It was disgusting, actually. It had gotten to the point where he stopped visiting his family during the holidays. The occasional New Year's card was a good enough trade for not being badgered.

One more week.

One more week, and Allen would put in his request to move to Second Division. KOS-MOS would be gone, and there would be no more reason for him to be under Kevin nor her. He had even heard there were openings for engineers at Hyams for their own military contracts. The notion was enticing: possibly having the same position as Kevin and being nowhere near him. Or her. The water felt nice, warm and pounding on him like a million tiny fists. Intoxicating, almost orgasmic.

Allen shut off the water.

He noticed a few of her things sitting on the bathroom sink and in the cabinets. Some of her barrettes, a small bottle of perfume, a tube of lipstick, that stupid little bunny keychain she whined over losing last week, and so on. That meant she had spent the night there a few times; Allen wondered how many more of her little trinkets were around the apartment, worse still what was left behind in Kevin's bedroom. He frowned, picked up the perfume bottle, and sniffed it; it was definitely her scent. His frown deepened; one week left, and he'd be rid of those two for good.

The bathroom door opened, and hastily Allen set down the bottle then looked over at his host.

"I forgot to tell you," Kevin began sheepishly, though his words were still a bit muddy, indicating that the alcohol was still in his system. "The linen closet's on the left before this room. You probably were looking for some towels, right?"

Allen nodded once nervously, embarrassed by the fact that he was standing naked and dripping wet in front of his boss. More disturbing was that Kevin seemed perfectly comfortable with the situation. The older man opened the door a bit further and slipped into the room, just an arm's length away from the other man. He then glanced down himself at the items on the sink, slowly placing his hands on his hips.

"These are..." Allen began slowly.

Kevin nodded, "Yeah, they are."

"I didn't know that--"

"--We're engaged."

"...Oh. Congrats." He sounded dejected.

Winnicot smiled sadly, "I think she's more excited about than I am, even though...I'm the one that asked." He looked up at Allen, his face drawn down into a tight frown.

"Then...why did you ask her?"

Kevin didn't answer but instead crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one hip, his mouth twisted to the side as he thought to himself.

Finally, he said, "You're going to take care of those flowers for me, right?"

Allen rolled his eyes and nodded reluctantly. That answer pleased Kevin enough where a slight smile began to creep across his face. He then uncrossed his arms, patted the younger man on both shoulders, and then firmly latched his hands on Allen's shoulders as his smile grew into a full grin.

The silence at that point bothered Allen. He was naked and vulnerable, unable to say or do anything while the man he considered his worst enemy was grinning amiably at him, hands resting on his shoulders, fingers starting massage themselves into the taunt muscles there...

That wasn't supposed to be happening underneath any circumstances.

Nor was he ever _ever_ supposed to be up next to Kevin Winnicot like that. But there Allen Ridgely was, his back pressed against the edge of the sink, and Kevin pressed against his front, his hands moving from the younger man's shoulders down to his waist then lower as they wandered around. Allen squeezed his eyes shut, his hands gripping the edges of the sink on either side of where his back rested. He turned his head some to keep from looking the other man in the eye, though that was a mistake as he felt Kevin's lips brushing up on against his neck.

Winnicot smelt like cigarettes and whiskey. Tasted it like it as well. That reminded Allen of a few things, mostly of home. Though, both men were brushing their lips against each other out of fascination, eyes half-closed, legs spread slightly to allow for themselves to explore and more access. Allen shuddered some as he felt Kevin's hand starting fondle and stroke him lazily, smile still on his face. Ridgely returned the favor.

Hyams was starting to sound like an excellent idea.

And in one week, he wouldn't have to think about those fucking flowers ever again.


End file.
